Philo: On Bezalel's Name ("In the Shadow of God")

Philo of Alexandria

(Image from Wikipedia)

In yesterday's post, I wondered if Philo had commented on the meaning of Bezalel's name, i.e., "in the shadow of God," and indeed he had, as Professor Brandon Watson notes in a comment. Brandon's comment led me to an online source, The Works of Philo Judaeus, translated from the Greek by Charles Duke Yonge (London, H. G. Bohn, 1854-1890), where I found the two passages Brandon had located, plus a third. Here's one from Allegorical Interpretation, III, presented by Philo as a case in which God predisposes the character of some individuals to their divinely appointed tasks, in this instance the craftsman Bezalel to his job of constructing the holy tabernacle according to God's design:

XXXI. (95) On which account God also calls Bezaleel by name, and says that "He will give him wisdom and knowledge, and that He will make him the builder and the architect of all the things which are in his Tabernacle" [Exodus 31:2]; that is to say, of all the works of the soul, when he had up to this time done no work which any one could praise -- we must say, therefore, that God impressed this figure also on the soul, after the fashion of an approved coin. And we shall know what the impression is if we previously examine the interpretation of the name. (96) Now, Bezaleel, being interpreted, means God in his shadow. But the shadow of God is his word, which he used like an instrument when he was making the world. And this shadow, and, as it were, model, is the archetype of other things. For, as God is himself the model of that image which he has now called a shadow, so also that image is the model of other things, as he showed when he commenced giving the law to the Israelites, and said, "And God made man according to the image of God" [Genesis 1:26], as the image was modelled according to God, and as man was modelled according to the image, which thus received the power and character of the model.

I'm not sure that the author of Hebrews would follow Philo all the way and call the "image of God" a shadow, for in Hebrews 1:3, he calls the Son "the brightness of [His] glory, and the express image of His person" (ἀπαύγασμα τῆς δόξης καὶ χαρακτὴρ τῆς ὑποστάσεως αὐτοῦ), but he might like the etymological connection between Bezalel's name and the tabernacle as a "shadow of heavenly things" (Hebrews 8:5). The second passage, also located by Brandon, is from On Dreams, That They are God-Sent, and the context refers to a contrast between the man (Bezalel) who works with copies and the man (Moses) who creates the archetype:

(1.206) Now the sacred scripture calls the maker of this compound work Besaleel, which name, being interpreted, signifies "in the shadow of God;" for he makes all the copies, and the man by name Moses makes all the models, as the principal architect; and for this reason it is, that the one only draws outlines as it were, but the other is not content with such sketches, (1.207) but makes the archetypal natures themselves, and has already adorned the holy places with his variegating art; but the wise man is called the only adorner of the place of wisdom in the oracles delivered in the sacred scriptures.

I presume that the connection to dreams here would likely be the vision of heavenly things, said to be given to Moses on Mount Sinai, one of these heavenly things being the model for the tabernacle. Anyway, the third passage is from Concerning Noah's Work as a Planter and the context refers to the intricate construction of various complex objects in the holy tabernacle, of which Bezalel has the honor:

VI. (26) Therefore, also, Moses will be summoned upwards, the steward and guardian of the sacred mysteries of the living God. For we read in the book of Leviticus, "He called Moses up to Him" [Exodus 31:2 is the passage alluded to, and not any verse in Leviticus]. Bezeleel also will be summoned up, being thought worthy of the same honours. For him, also, God calls up for the preparation of the sacred furniture and for the care of the sacred works. (27) But he receives only the second honour of this summons, and the all-wise Moses shall have the first place assigned to him. For the former fashions shadows only, like painters do, in which it is not right to form any living thing. For the very name Bezeleel is interpreted to mean, "working in shadows." But Moses does not make shadows, but the task is assigned to him of forming the archetypal natures of things themselves. And in other places, also, the great Cause of all things is accustomed to reveal his secrets to some in a more conspicuous and visible manner, as if in the pure light of the sun, and to others more sparely, as though in the shade.

Note that the contrast is once again made between Bezalel as the one working shadows and Moses as the one who works with archetypes. I should also note that Professor Harold Attridge was well aware of Philo's etymological speculations on the name "Bezalel," as I would have discovered earlier if I had followed up his citations, which I even cited:

Philo frequently develops the contrast between the chief craftsman Bezalel (Exodus 31:2), who builds the shadows of the realities that Moses alone has seen. Cf. Leg. all. 3.96, 103; Plant. 27; Som. 1.206 (Attridge, Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, page 219b, note 44).

But since Attridge does not explicitly refer to Bezalel in connection with the tabernacle as a "shadow of heavenly things" (Hebrews 8:5), then I gather that he doesn't consider this significant for the writer of Hebrews.

UPDATE: Thanks to Jim Davila of PaleoJudaica for sending traffic my way.

Paul Berman on Tariq Ramadan: Part 10

Jesus of Nazareth

Carl Heinrich Bloch, Sermon on the Mount, 19th c.

Calling for a Moratorium on Stoning?

(Image from Wikipedia)

Consider, if you will -- as Paul Berman does -- Tariq Ramadan's tragic position:

The problem lies in the terrible fact that Ramadan's personal milieu -- his grandfather, his family history, his family contacts, his intellectual tradition -- is precisely the milieu that bears the principal responsibility for generating the modern theoretical justification for religious suicide-terrorism. Yet what can Ramadan do about this horrific reality -- turn against his family? He is his family's prince. He has timidly offered jurisprudential proposals contrary to Qaradawi's; but Ramadan, unlike Qaradawi, is a university philosopher, a secular figure (in spite of everything), and not an authoritative theologian. Ramadan's opinions are opinions; Qaradawi's opinions are law. What is Ramadan to do, then? To challenge Qaradawi's authority would mean challenging the system of authority as a whole, which is something well beyond the salafi reformist idea. So Ramadan writes op-eds, which are not fatwas. And he devotes his life to burnishing the prestige of his father and grandfather and their works, and to promoting the cause of salafi reformism, which means promoting the authority of true and authentic Islamic scholars such as Qaradawi. ("The Islamist, the Journalist, and the Defense of Liberalism," page 45)

Such is the contradiction that is Ramadan, the contradiction between an intelligent, even intellectual man of perhaps humane, independent views and a pious Muslim man subjected to a fate over which he has no control, the fate of being Mr. Tariq Ramadan, grandson of Hassan al-Banna, son of Said Ramadan, brother of Hani Ramadan.

All three of these close relatives have favored, for example, stoning women to death for adultery. Tariq's brother Hani has explicitly supported stoning. What is Tariq Ramadan's position? We already know. He has called for a moratorium. Or perhaps "called for" is a bit too strong. In a debate with Sarkozy, he found himself forced into the uncomfortable distinguishing his views from his brother Hani and felt constrained to offer words in favor of that already mentioned moratorium.

Berman takes Aziz Zemouri's book, Should Tariq Ramadan Be Silenced?, and draws upon its transcript of that exchange in this famous debate at the very moment that Ramadan has just suggested a moratorium on the stoning of women:

SARKOZY: A moratorium.... Mr. Ramadan, are you serious?

RAMADAN: Wait, let me finish.

SARKOZY: A moratorium, that is to say, we should, for a while, hold back from stoning women?

RAMADAN: No, no, wait.... What does a moratorium mean? A moratorium would mean that we absolutely end the application of all of those penalties, in order to have a true debate. And my position is that if we arrive at a consensus among Muslims, it will necessarily end. But you cannot, you know, when you are in a community.... Today on television, I can please the French people who are watching by saying, "Me, my own position." But my own position doesn't count. What matters is to bring about an evolution in Muslim mentalities, Mr. Sarkozy. It's necessary that you understand....

SARKOZY: But, Mr. Ramadan....

RAMADAN: Let me finish.

SARKOZY: Just one point. I understand you, but Muslims are human beings who live in 2003 in France, since we are speaking about the French community, and you have just said something particularly incredible, which is that the stoning of women, yes, the stoning is a bit shocking, but we should simply declare a moratorium, and then we are going to think about it in order to decide if it is good.... But that's monstrous -- to stone a woman because she is an adulterer! It's necessary to condemn it!

RAMADAN: Mr. Sarkozy, listen well to what I am saying. What I say, my own position, is that the law is not applicable -- that's clear. But today, I speak to Muslims around the world and I take part, even in the United States, in the Muslim world.... You should have a pedagogical posture that makes people discuss things. You can decide all by yourself to be a progressive in the communities. That's too easy. Today my position is, that is to say, "We should stop."

SARKOZY: Mr. Ramadan, if it is regressive not to want to stone women, I avow that I am a regressive. ("The Islamist, the Journalist, and the Defense of Liberalism," pages 50-51)

Of this exchange, Berman observes:

Some six million French people watched that exchange. A huge number of Muslim immigrants must have been among them -- the very people who might have benefited from hearing someone speak with absolute clarity about violence against women. Ramadan couldn't do it. Here was his Qutbian moment, the moment of frisson. The seventh century had suddenly appeared, poking out from beneath the modern rhetoric of feminism and rights. A moment of barbarism. A thrill. The whole panorama of Muslim women suddenly deployed across the television screens of France -- the panorama of violence that is condoned, sanctified, and even mandated by the highest authorities. And here was Sarkozy, recoiling in horror: the bourgeoisie, shocked at last. ("The Islamist, the Journalist, and the Defense of Liberalism," page 51)

Such is Berman's view, but let us here recall that Ramadan is a tragic figure, which is to say, he is a man constrained by fate, his fate of being Tariq Ramadan, grandson of Hassan al-Banna, son of Said Ramadan, and, yes, brother of Hani Ramadan. What more could he do than suggest a moratorium? He could not simply state outright that stoning is wrong. That would contradict his salafi principles. The Qur'an itself may say nothing about stoning, but the hadith assuredly do and shariah mandates it. About stoning, Sarkozy may insist, "It's necessary to condemn it!" but Ramadan has no such luxury.

The Christian world, which perhaps includes 'post-Christian' Europe, can easily speak out against stoning by citing the words of Jesus in John 8:1-11:

[1] Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. [2] And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. [3] And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, [4] They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. [5] Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou? [6] This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. [7] So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. [8] And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. [9] And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. [10] When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? [11] She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more. (King James Version)

That seems simple enough. Stoning is wrong, for Jesus said so. But things are not so simple. Aside from the somewhat troubling point that this passage in John 8 does not always appear in the ancient manuscripts of John 8 but sometimes elsewhere in John and in some Johannine texts not at all, Jesus himself does not in this passage speak out explicitly against stoning. Confronted by the Pharisees, who insist upon a religious opinion concerning the Mosaic law's penalty of stoning for adultery, Jesus evades answering directly. Rather than confirm or reject the Mosaic law upon this point, Jesus turns the issue upon those confronting him with the question by confronting them with a question, in effect asking them, "Which of you is worthy to judge?"

One might say that Jesus was calling for a moratorium while we determine the answer to that question, somewhat as Ramadan could be doing, namely, calling for a moratorium while Muslims determine whether the Ummah is pure enough to enact the laws of Allah. And what of Sarkozy himself? He considers himself Catholic. The Church is, of course, against stoning ... but why? Is it wrong? Well, it didn't use to be wrong, back when Moses revealed the divine will, but it's 'wrong' now, though only because God instituted a new covenant. Well, thank God for that!

Unfortunately for Muslims, Allah returned them to an older covenant, an even harsher one with its strict, punitive laws of huddud. Ramadan, despite his moderation, cannot simply condemn these laws outright. At best, he can only ask for their suspension. Such is my tentative, generous view of Ramadan, but what does this bode for a European Islam if its outspoken spokesman cannot offer more than a moratorium?

What it bodes is not good.

Suppose such a moratorium were declared. How might pious Muslims see this? A moratorium could be either temporary or permanent. If the former, then we would soon be returned to the current, unbearable circumstances in which Muslims cannot openly oppose stoning. If the latter, then the entire apparatus of shariah would be called into question, for why shouldn't all of Muslim law be under a permanent moratorium, and in that case, with no Muslim submitting to Allah's laws, what could "Islam" -- the religion of submission to Allah -- possibly mean?

The best that the tragic Ramadan can offer would mean either nothing at all . . . or the death of Islam.